


Off the Charts

by theresnoreason



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dream Bubble, F/M, Gen, M/M, Other, Pesterlog, Self-cest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-02-06
Updated: 2012-02-11
Packaged: 2017-10-30 17:07:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/334072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theresnoreason/pseuds/theresnoreason
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The never so new concept of writing a drabble, ficlet, or short story for any and every pairing that can be found.  Warnings, pairings, and characters will be added in time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dream Team

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tavros and Aradia remember days gone by far too long ago.

Aradia/Tavros

Your name is Tavros Nitram and you don’t know how to feel right now, but whatever it is, it is far from unpleasant. You and your teammate are sitting atop a cliff, FLARPing session done for the night after you’d sent Team Scourge packing. You kick your legs, letting them dangle over a cliffside, no matter how uneasy it’s making you for some reason. Aradia has a sad look in her eyes that you swear has been getting more intense as the session wore on, one of her hands over yours in what you have been guessing is a friendly gesture. She'd been quiet all night, but even in the face of admittedly shaky victory, something seems to be bothering her.

“Tavros, do you remember?” She asks out of nowhere. You give the surrounding area a sweeping glance before turning back to your friend.

“I’m, uh, not sure what I should be remembering,” you venture, a little too unsure for your liking.

“This place feels important, doesn’t it?” She prods, her mood falling, but smile staying in place. You look down the side of the cliff, shuddering before you can even register what could be nagging at some dark part of your mind about the sight. You’ve rather enjoyed heights as long as you can remember, the idea of flying having always appealed to you. You face Aradia now, finding she'd placed herself squarely in your personal bubble, her hand squeezing yours a little tighter. You pull back for a moment, surprised at the sudden closed space between the two of you before slowly, but surely, moving forward, back into place. The gap between the two of you grows smaller and then…

And then…?

Sudden flashes of memories, past and future (at this point), dance across your mind. Yes, this place was important, how could you have forgotten? Before losing your legs, you’d gained your first and only kiss with Aradia, your wonderful friend and FLARPing companion. Your lips pressed against each other is something simple, sweet, and innocent. It’s when she pulls away, that look still in her eyes, but her smile broader, do you realize where you are. Hood pulled over her head, wings fluttering in anticipation, it doesn’t take a genius to realize that you’re gazing back at her with the same smile, but eyes blanked out with the bittersweet embrace of death.


	2. Sweet Self Loathing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone else preemptively banned or just plain not giving a fuck, Karkat somehow finds the time to have an extended argument with himself yet again.

Karkat/Karkat

You pound away at the keys, teeth gritted, close to cracking. Talking to all the other insufferable bastards was already mindfuckingly counterproductive to preserving your sanity enough without bringing in these conversations with yourself at whatever point on your timeline. Of course, at this point in particular, you are trading barbs with your future self, the annoying bastard becoming increasingly smug about knowing what you do not and endlessly taunting you, his past self, about the inevitability of your future as an annoying self-righteous prick.

 

FCG: IT’S UNBELIEVABLE.

FCG: NO, TRULY ASTOUNDING HOW GOD DAMN STUBBORN YOU’RE BEING. HOW COULD I EVEN DELUDE MYSELF INTO THINKING YOU’D BE REASONABLE.

CCG: NO KIDDING, WEREN’T YOU JUST ME, WHAT, HALF AN HOUR AGO? TALK ABOUT INSANE FUCKING BEHAVIOR.

CCG: YOU WANT TO TALK ABOUT INEVITABILITY? HOW ABOUT THIS ASININE INSISTANCE ON GOING BACK AND TRYING TO LECTURE ME THEN INSTEAD DEVOLVING INTO SOME SORT OF GURGLING WRIGGLER WITHOUT A GOD DAMN POINT TO BE FOUND?

CCG: IF YOU DO FUCK THE HELL OFF, I SWEAR I’LL TEST THIS “INEVITABILITY” AND THROW MYSELF SCREAMING INTO THE VACUUM OF SPACE.

FCG: WE BOTH KNOW YOU’RE FAR TOO MUCH OF A GRUBMUNCHING WUSS FOR THAT.

CCG: BUT WE BOTH KNOW I’M ENOUGH OF A SPITEFUL ASSHOLE TO CUT OFF A FINGER OR NINE JUST TO PISS YOU OFF. 

FCG: I’M NOTICEABLY TYPING WITH ALL MY FINGERS, SO IT’S SAFE TO SAY YOU ARE AND ALWAYS WILL BE COMPLETELY FULL OF SHIT, YOU USELESS BULGESUCKING MORON.

 

Breathing normally is becoming too much of an effort, you feel as if your eyes will pop right out of their sockets in anger. Your fingers twitch, eager to lash out at this fucking asshole with all the hateful fury you can manage. A not entirely unpleasant shudder wracks your body at the idea of gripping the throat of your future self, throttling the smug bastard as effectively as you can.

Before you realize it, you’re letting out a somewhat satisfied groan at the thought. You huff loudly, burying your face in your hands and try to ignore how absolutely pleasing this utter self hatred is becoming. You absentmindedly trade a few more colorful insults and declarations with your future self, biting your lip. After all, you can't have any more undignified noises leaving your mouth over this whole conversation, though you can't help but wonder when the current situation in your pants will be thrown back in your face by this hate-shaming nooklicker you call a future self.

Probably when he’s finished, you think with a dissatisfied frown. With that impending bonebulge kill on your mind, you bring up a memo you were in not too long ago. As you find the beginning of the conversation you are now embroiled in, you let one of your hands drift down the front of your pants, for a moment enjoying the inevitability of being an annoying self-righteous prick.

 

FUTURE carcinoGeneticist [FCG] 26 MINUTES FROM NOW responded to memo.

FCG: LISTEN, FUCKASS, I KNOW YOU'RE HELLBENT ON BEING THE MOST INSUFFERABLE ASSHOLE I’VE EVER COME INTO CONTACT WITH, BUT MAYBE YOU CAN STUFF IT FOR TWO SECONDS AND LISTEN TO REASON…

 

You let the sweet pay back start to sink in, as your hatred boils over, your future self still yammering on, annoying the everloving fuck out of you. However, as you begin to roughly handle yourself, you find the satisfaction that drives you to accept the continuous black solicitations you find making with yourself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There just... needs to be more Karkat selfcest...


	3. Hush Now

Feferi/Gamzee

Your name is Feferi Peixes and you have just run out of the energy to stay angry. Actually, it was less like losing the energy and more like finding it redirected at the pitiable sight before you. Gamzee has somehow wedged himself between several useless computer towers in his corner of the lab, the scratches on his face still prominent through the disturbed paint, but the blood had long ago stopped flowing. You feel your shoulders relax, the tension of hyping yourself up for a short but harrowing confrontation draining out of them. You try to ignore the rainbow of blood spatter decorating the room and slowly approach the other troll.

It’s likely he hasn’t noticed you yet, his eyes glazed over, mouth set in a deep frown as he stares vacantly at the empty glass tubes that used to contain a far too large number of dead bodies. You shake any thoughts of your dismembered friends, the very subject you came down here to have a not so friendly discussion about, and stop a few short steps away from the cluster of machinery hiding your still-friend.

“Gamzee?” You call softly. He honks in surprise, you glub in response, his eyes locking onto you in confusion. You feel a nervous chuckle bubble from your throat at how jumpy the both of you are, him cracking an unsure neutral look that you want to call a smile if you’re grasping at the familiar.

The brief feeling of the air between you clearing subsides far too quickly and you seat yourself across from him. He noticeably shuffles backwards, despite his back already being pressed against the wall and hides his face in his hands again. Needless to say, you are unsettled more about this behavior before you than the second hand descriptions of the murdering spree and body collection. You clear your throat, a little more determined to…

Do something? You’re not quite here out of fury anymore.

“Gamzee,” you say louder, a little more forcefully. This time when he looks up, he doesn’t have time to figure out what’s going on, or maybe even try to figure out if you’re really there or not. He only has the warning of your extended hands gripping his shirt before you pull him close and wrap your arms around him, resting your chin atop the matted mess he called hair. Your face settles between his horns as you practically hear the connections being made in his head about what’s going on.

Finally, he realizes the gesture, buries his face in your chest and grasps your shirt tightly, shaking as awareness of his surroundings and the current situation floods back into his all too clear think pan.

Maybe when he can finally forgive himself you’ll give him shit about everything that’s happened, but for now, you will hold him tightly and glub soothingly as long as he needs it.


	4. Up and Coming Crazy Cat Lady

Eridan/Jaspers

 

Adopting and renaming pets was not a new concept. What was new was the tiny tuxedoed meowbeast rubbing up against the sea dweller’s legs. He looked around nervously, regarding the black furred creature with a healthy combination of skepticism, suspicion, and a dose of desperate hope.

“Wwhat do ya think you’re doing?” He snapped at the land dwelling beast. It looks up at him with a weirdly happy little face and large vacant eyes staring expectantly, “Come on, ya wwant somethin’ so what is it?”

Eridan couldn’t help but assume this meowbeast had some sort of agenda. No matter how much the affection it was showing warmed his heart, he knew it was after something. However, instead of answering his question, it just batted at the end of his scarf playfully. The sea dweller scowled, but scooted the creature away with his foot as gently, but firmly as he could.

“Wwell then, go awway then, ya got no use to me,” he concluded and began to abandon the creature at the edge of the beach. However, try as he might to escape it, the meowbeast insisted on following him. He grew more and more uncomfortable as it occasionally rubbed up against his leg a few more times, mewing softly and pleasantly. He hated to admit it, but his blood pusher was beginning to feel a little warmed at the blatantly affectionate gestures. As the night wore on, the growls and calls of the other beasts that inhabited the area began to echo around them. Eridan spared a quick glance down at the tiny, well dressed meowbeast. He would never admit it, but he was concerned for the well being of this creature that was inexplicably fond of him.

With a new determination (not to mention some warm and fuzzy feeling finally taking hold), he scooped it up in his arms and carried him on the rest of his journey, nuzzling the furry, black head affectionately from time to time, and finally allowing himself to admit that, yeah, maybe having a small creature to look after was just what he needed. If this meowbeast was willing to unquestioningly give him affection, he might just be obliged to return it.

Nonetheless…

“Wwell, Orphaner Mewwlscar insisted on an Earth wwedding, so wwho am I to refuse him?”

Perhaps some affections are better left not pursued.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Eridan OTP, for sure. Their love is one that goes far beyond all the quadrants combined.


	5. Thrill of the Hunt

Jake/Gamzee

_HONK_

_honk_

_HONKHONKHONK_

The thrill of the hunt had effectively gripped Jake by the time his eyes had settled on the tall, gangly form of the alien clown. They regarded each other for a brief moment, a wide grin breaking out on both their faces; Gamzee’s looked a little more sinister whereas Jake’s surely came off as predatory. Not a word was exchanged between the two of them, but a sort of manic glee overcame them as they came to a silent understanding, breaking into a run towards the dense trees before them.

_honk honk motherfucker_

Gamzee honked in the distance, his voice growing louder and softer, broken only by a long, loud round of what would be terrifying laughter if Jake wasn’t caught up in the feeling of his blood racing and his muscles aching for their eventual confrontation. His pistols drawn, Jake would fire a shot in the general vicinity of the blur of orange horns when they flashed by, the slinking, speedy shadow that would often make itself known.

They were toying with each other, getting fully swept up in this high stakes game of a friendly hunt. The human boy found himself laid flat on the ground on more than one occasion, knocked down with a well swung club in retaliation. He relished the occasional slashes across his clothing, reminding him that they may actually by playing to the death.

But boy, what a death it would be!

When Jake finally, finally, caught a clear view of the troll, he crept up as best he could, knowing this was the moment they would be testing their mettle in what could quickly turn into a violent wrestling match.

Gamzee could have easily dodged the tackle, he’d heard the unintentional bark of satisfied laughter, but he stayed put, ready to put his hands to work on the squishy pink creature.

They landed hard on the ground, Gamzee finding one of his arms wrenched behind his back with a strong forearm looped around his front, pressing with a decent amount of pressure against his throat. Jake pinned his prey the best he could before finding their positions unceremoniously flipped, his back dragging against the ground and the face painted troll writhed in an attempt to throw off the human’s hold. It turned into an awkward heated skuffle of flailing legs beating against the ground, arms gripping tightly at each other, and bodies wriggling and clashing heatedly.

It was when Jake took a stray swing of Gamzee’s horns to the face did his grip loosen enough for the troll to take control of the situation. In one smooth motion, he was over Jake, limbs effectively pinned and finding nothing more to do than cast a smug, half lidded gaze down at his hunter.

“Game over, my motherfucker,” he let out breathily with a slow chuckle and his seemingly ever-present lazy grin slipped into place. Both of them were breathing heavily at this game’s conclusion, though judging by the way Gamzee wasn’t letting Jake up and leaning down purposefully, it seemed a new game was already afoot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I... didn't know I wanted this until I started writing it. :|

**Author's Note:**

> I'm fresh to this fandom and haven't written fics in years. Critiques and advice for finding character voices are welcome. Overall, I hope to produce something enjoyable and get my writing to sound less stiff with time.


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